Naturally
by amberpire
Summary: One can't exist without the other. Or something sappy and poetic like that. ;Miguel/Tulio; A series of oneshots and drabbles.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** _Hey, all! So, I have a bit of an obsession with this movie. Tulio and Miguel are my loves. Anyway, instead of posting separate fics all the time, I'll just put them all here as oneshots or drabbles. They won't be connected, each 'chapter' being a different oneshot/drabble, just so that's clear. Enjoy! Rated M for whenever the smut decides to come out. _

* * *

"You know, I am a _lot _smarter than you think I am. I _told _you not to go in the water. I was _cutting _a trail for us, and what do you do? Swim across and get suckled by leeches."

Tulio huffed, mumbling as another leech was yanked from the skin of his back. He made a face as Miguel wiped the remaining slime away, still mumbling about how he was never credited with his obvious intelligence.

"If you would just listen to me for _once _you would realize what a genius I am - I'm a prodigy, I am a marvelous specimen of human kind if you would take notice." Miguel plucked another leech from the Spaniard's back and tossed it back into the water. To his left, the former war horse, Altivo, chewed at a piece of grass. "I know you always say you're the smart one, but you just remember this the next time I ask you what a word means."

Tulio scoffed, twisting around to face the blonde. "Miguel, you asked me what the word _fornication _meant!"

Miguel threw up his hands, a leech he had pinched between his fingers flying away. "Well, I'm sorry I don't read the dictionary in my spare time!"

Blue eyes rolled so hard they almost popped out of his skull as Tulio spun around again, resting his chin on his hands, elbows on his knees. Miguel grumbled behind him as he tugged the leeches away, Altivo watching them curiously.

"Besides," Miguel spoke again, plucking the last of the leeches away and tossing it away. His arms wrapped around the black-haired man's shoulders and tugged him backwards, lips to his ear. "You should be thanking me."

Tulio perked an eyebrow, a hand raising to curl around the other man's wrist. He was used to this kind of contact with Miguel. He was very ... affectionate, for a grown man. "Gracias, amigo," Tulio mumbled, rubbing the arm draped around his neck. Tulio didn't notice, or at least he didn't acknowledge that he was just as touchy with the other male. It just didn't seem abnormal for them. Miguel was his other half. Only, you know, more stupid.

Maybe stupid was too harsh of a word. Miguel was just very ... absent-minded. Impulsive. Tulio had always been the more responsible of the two, the one who thought things through. He was always the one with the plan.

Miguel grinned against the man's ear. "De nada." He leaned forward, a sloppy kiss pressed to the man's cheek. Tulio stuck out his tongue, rubbing at the wet spot upon his cheek as Miguel laughed against his back. He leaned away again and resumed pulling away the blood-sucking leeches. "It's getting dark, we should just camp here."

Tulio threw his eyes at Altivo, who was already slumping against the grass, fighting sleep. "But we have so many miles to cover yet, we still haven't found that eagle ... thing on the map and I'm afraid if we sit here too long, jungle animals will eat our insides while we sleep -"

"Darling, please shut up."

Tulio turned over his shoulder just as the last leech was yanked from his skin. He gagged as the slime was wiped away using Miguel's sleeve, shuddering as he reached for his own shirt. "You're a very rude person, you know."

"You worry too much," Miguel mumbled, snagging the blue shirt from Tulio's hands and raising it, allowing the other Spaniard to slip his arms inside. Miguel then slumped against his shoulder, arms tucking about Tulio's waist with a heavy sigh. "We can rest for one night. You just need to ..." His hands slipped backwards, thumbs and fingers massaging Tulio's permanently tense shoulders. "Relax."

Tulio sighed, wringing a hand through his hair, black locks spilling forward. "I can't relax, Miguel. We're in the middle of a freaky jungle on a goose chase for a golden city that may or may not exist, we have a borderline idiotic warhorse -"

Altivo snorted loudly.

"I mean, brilliant, warhorse ... and we're alone."

Miguel paused his massage. "I'm here."

Tulio turned, huffing as he faced the other man. "I know, Mig. I know."

Miguel flashed his infamous grin, hands still resting on the man's shoulders. "So, chill."

"Chill?"

"Yeah. Chill. I made it up. Watch, it'll catch storm some day."

Tulio smiled despite himself, ignoring his growing worries for the moment and focusing on his partner, his best friend, his Miguel. "Miguel, you ... you."

An auburn eyebrow rose. "Yes, I'm lovely, I know."

Tulio shook his head. "I guess if anyone had asked me what three things to have when abandoned on an island ..."

Miguel moved forward, between the man's legs. "You'd say a warhorse?"

The black-haired Spaniard nodded slowly, reaching up to twirl a finger around a gold strand of hair. "A map ..."

"And?"

Tulio smiled, his fingers threading through that brilliant hair, tugging the man closer. "And you."


	2. Chapter 2

Miguel thumbs through a Bible with a heavy frown. He's not sure how it ended up here, but there it is, in his hands.

_"You shall not steal."_

Well, that's about all he's ever done. Miguel has never been exactly best friends with any kind of god - though being one was rather fun - but it seems like the one in this book is a bit ... dramatic. Doesn't he know how hard it is, down here on Earth? It's a pain in the ass to get food. Stealing is the most effective way to survive.

_"You shall not make for yourself an idol, whether in the form of anything that is in heaven above, or that is on the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth."_

Miguel made another face. It didn't seem like his chances of getting into this 'heaven' were very good at this point. Pretending to be a god had been one of the best experiences of his life.

_"You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination."_

This one made the blond freeze, an angry twist pulling at his lips as he slammed the book shut. Abomination? What a terrible, ugly word, the man decided, tossing the load of crap across the floor. It slid until it met the wall, Miguel's emerald eyes locked on the stupid, ignorant book. Abomination ... goodness, and people believed this stuff, didn't they? Miguel huffed, arms crossing. Breath rattled beside him, sheets shuffling until he found a hand pressing to his back.

"Hey, you all right?"

Miguel turned slowly, gazing down with clear fondness at the sleepy man at his side. Tulio blinked blearily up at him, a fist rubbing at his brilliant blue eyes.

"Yeah," Miguel replied, leaning down to press his lips to Tulio's forehead. He slipped beneath the sheets again, an arm draped over the other Spaniard's chest. "Just wondering why idiots write books."

"What?" Tulio struggled to stay awake, but his eyelids seemed to be winning, falling heavily over his eyes.

"Nevermind. Just sleep." Miguel rested his head beside the other man's and touched his cheek as he lost to his fatigue, body going limp with rest.

Abomination, honestly. Some people had no sense.


	3. Chapter 3

Tulio hated himself.

Miguel's fingers fluttered down his back, teased his spine, pulled the ribbon from his hair. Black locks spilled over too talented hands.

A goatee scratched his cheek before hungry lips arrested his own.

At home, Chel curled in an empty bed. But Tulio's thoughts were far from her, absorbed in what this was, what this had always been, what Miguel would always be. The blonde's gasps were hot in his ear. Hands desperately tore at his clothes and Tulio melted into the mattress, forgetting, hating.

A sin, but the most pleasurable of them all.

Miguel tried to claim him, whispering his name, with every trace of his fingertips, telling Tulio, "_I was here first_."

Tulio hated himself, but he would never hate this.


	4. Chapter 4

"We're getting married! Me, Tulio, _I'm_ getting married! Oh, oh God, oh God I'm getting _married _... oh no ..."

Miguel sat carefully at his best friend's side, a gentle hand resting on his back. His lips showed nothing but smiles. He had learned early on that, as well as being a thief, his life had become one, stretched-out play. He was always pretending. He was always lying. "Breathe, Tulio."

On que, the black-haired man sucked in a shuddering breath. "I'm getting hitched! Married, betrothed! God, Miguel, did you ever think I would settle down long enough to ... to unite in holy matrimony?" He turns toward Miguel, a smirk dominating his lips. He was so happy, glowing with a kind of optimism Miguel could only see and never feel himself. Tulio punched the other man's shoulder when he received nothing but silence. "Hello, Miguel?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, I mean, no, I mean ... I'm happy for you." Miguel removed his hand from the man's back and let his fingers lace in front of him. He beamed at his friend, his best friend, his only friend. His eyes fell, lingering on the gold band strapped to Tulio's finger. Miguel rubbed at his chest absently, as if trying to soothe the throb underneath his shirt, his skin, his bones. His heart ached as Tulio stood and danced about the room, wiggling his hips, arms twirling around him.

Tulio was in love.

And it wasn't with him.

Miguel let his chin fall into his open palm, watching the other man. He tried to hate Chel, really. He tried to think angry words and bitter thoughts when it came to her. But he couldn't, not seeing Tulio like this, not when he knew how much Chel meant.

Miguel didn't have to like any of this, but he had to accept it, sooner or later.

"Good God, what am I going to wear? What if she changes her mind? What if - Jesus, what if I lose the ring or something? Knowing us, knowing our luck, something will go wrong somewhere. The Apocalypse will come as soon as I say 'I do', or an earthquake will shatter the church, or Chel will leave me at the altar - oh, that will be a fabulous time to be struck by lightening, eh, amigo?"

Tulio finally ceased his twirling and looked at the other man, his flame starting to die. Miguel simply stared at him, an echo of a happy smile on his lips. He was trying so very hard for Tulio, but this was it, this was his dreams falling apart in front of him. This was the man he loved being with someone else.

"Are you okay?" Tulio swayed closer, kneeling slightly, blue eyes hovering over emerald and Miguel knew them so well, too well.

"Yeah," Miguel lied, and even though they both knew it, they didn't say anything. "I'm fine."

Tulio reached out, a hand settling on the blonde's shoulder. "You know that no matter what ... you're my best friend. My partner."

Miguel's eyes fell, his own hand reaching up to touch Tulio's. Best friend. That's all he would ever be.

"Could you ... promise me something, Tulio?"

Tulio knelt further, knees on the floor, hands on the blonde's shoulders. "Of course."

"Promise me ..." Miguel's eyes drifted until they met the other man's and his heart lurched, sputtering, like it would give out. "You won't leave me."

"Oh, Miguel, that's crazy talk. I would never leave you."

Miguel tried a smile, though he was sure it was more of a weak grimace. "I just want to make sure." Miguel couldn't help himself, his heart pulling his chest forward until his arms wrapped tightly about Tulio's shoulders. It was a desperate embrace, fingers curling in the fabric of Tulio's shirt like he would float away if he didn't hold on tight enough. He smelled of pine. "Promise me, please."

Tulio blinked, bewildered as his arms tentatively circled the man's torso. "I promise, Miguel. I swear."

Miguel turned his face into the other man's neck, knowing that this was all he would ever have, and nothing else.


	5. Chapter 5

Tulio had always been torn between the two. It wasn't fair. He didn't want to have to choose. He didn't understand why they both wanted - no, _needed _him so much. His heart belonged to both, but his body could only be at the mercy of one.

He knew them so well. He knew Chel's soft curves, her dark, exotic eyes, the foreign and sultry roll of her voice.

And he knew Miguel's gold hair running through his fingers, emerald eyes staring up at him, the grip of his best friend begging him not to leave. Because Tulio knew what his choice should be, but he had never been able to resist Miguel, he had never been able to say no.

When he was with either of them, his heart ached for the other. He felt like he was living a constant double life. Lover versus lover, at whose hands? Chel gave him what every man was supposed to want; he could have children. He could get married. He could see the world with a beautiful woman on his arm. But Miguel promised that sharp taste of the forbidden, for Tulio had always wanted things society said he could not have.

He didn't want to choose. He wanted the best of both worlds, and he couldn't have that. He could never have that.

Because when Chel put her head to his chest and whispered, "I'll never let you go," she meant it.

And when Miguel pinned his wrists to the bed and said, "I'll never let you go," he meant it, too.


	6. Chapter 6

The taste of Chel's lips still lingered on his when Miguel tore at his clothing.

"Tulio," the blonde whispered, all of his desperation spilled into that one word. His fingers begged and pleaded for him to stay with each brush of skin.

And Tulio hated wanting it, wanting Miguel, touching him back, sinking into the mattress. He wanted to say no. He wanted to believe this was wrong.

But Miguel snuffed out his resistance with a kiss and Tulio melted like ice before a flame.


	7. Chapter 7

Miguel had been waiting for this moment since he met Tulio, which was just about forever.

El Dorado had some pretty fantastic drinks, made up and mixed together with all kinds of foreign concoctions. Spain didn't have anything close to the beverages in the golden city. Miguel doubted that any liquor anywhere would be put to shame by the strange neon blue and pink drinks delivered to their waiting hands in coconut shells. At first, he and Tulio had been a bit nervous, drinking something from strangers - but then they remembered that living life on the edge was practically their motto, and if they died drunk, that would certainly be a good way to go.

However, as Tulio downed shell after shell, trying as many drinks as he could, Miguel kept himself to only a few drinks. Certainly he felt a distinct buzz in his ears, and his body felt like it was vibrating, and at one point he was almost positive Altivo was talking to him and attempted to hold a conversation, only to discover it was the horse's rump he was speaking too. The Chief took away his drink after that, said that the gods shouldn't indulge too much in human pleasures. Miguel stopped drinking only because he had one sober thought left that swam to the front of his brain and took control - _get Tulio wasted_.

He had been planning this since the first time Tulio took his shirt off. Miguel was pretty sure they had been about sixteen or so - his memory was about as reliable as a rock's - and they were swimming in a river on the outskirts of their hometown and Tulio took of his shirt and Miguel's refused to take off his pants because ... things would have been seen.

The two had drank together pretty often in their days, but Tulio only got drunk enough to maybe swing an arm around Miguel's shoulder and whisper something mushy in his ear with his breath heavy with whiskey, and then he would wander off with some pretty girl to a bedroom. One would think that, Tulio being the more responsible of the two, he'd be much more cautious with his drinking, but Miguel was often his babysitter the day after, holding Tulio's hair back as he retched up his entire stomach.

Tonight, though, he wouldn't drink nearly as much as Tulio. He would remain sober enough to keep an eye on his partner, to make sure he didn't waltz off with some native girl, especially that Chel creature. Miguel didn't like the permanent sex eyes she seemed to possess. Or her curves that seemed strangely non-proportionate.

Tulio sang and danced and it was only when he was inebriated that he really let go; it was probably why Miguel tried to get him drunk so often, other than the obvious. Tulio let the tension melt off of his shoulders, it took the edge out of his eyes, it made him much more ... affectionate. Once, Tulio made Miguel slow dance with him in the middle of the street as he babbled on about how much Miguel meant to him. It was actually quite the heart-warming moment, until Tulio proceeded to vomit on him. That ruined the mood.

But tonight, Miguel was successful. As tempting as the drinks were, he pushed them away with a shake of his head and watched his Tulio dance and twirl about the square. Miguel joined, trying to look at least half as drunk as Tulio, who was stumbling around so much it was a wonder he was standing at all. He kept flashing wild, excited smiles at his blonde partner, having to readjust his robes more than once - they clung to him quite nicely, Miguel noted, licking his lips as Tulio clumsily pulled the edges of the fabric tightly about his hips, laughing loudly as he leaned into Miguel's side.

"Hmmrbrrg mhm, 'guel?" Tulio grinned sloppily and clung to Miguel's shoulders as he started to lean, gravity attempting to pull him to the stone floor.

Miguel quickly wrapped his arms about the tipping man's waist, holding him close so he wouldn't fall. At least, that's what Miguel told himself. "Tulio, are you even speaking a human language?"

"Pfffft." Tulio swatted his shoulder, then did it again, and again, his cheeks flushed red as he laughed almost hysterically, slumping in the blonde's arms. "I'm not...evendrunk...'guel."

Miguel nodded. "Yeah, and I'm not a man."

Tulio's lips puffed in an effort to hold in a loud laugh, only for it to burst out of him. "And I'm not a god!"

Miguel panicked, slapping a hand over the dark-haired drunk's mouth and glancing about the crowded square. Most were about as crazy drunk as Tulio, and the music was loud and no one seemed to be glancing their way. He peeled back his hand, finding Tulio's eyes with his own. "Do you want us to be sacrificed, you dunce?"

Tulio laughed again, cheeks flushing as he reached up and tapped a single digit on the end of his partner's nose. "Look at you ... being all ... surrrrrrrious." The Spaniard laughed, throwing his head back so far he nearly toppled, only staying on two feet because of Miguel, who tightened his hold on the drunk man's waist and pulled him closer. He smelled of the strange liquor of this hidden city, a mix of vanilla and rum and perfume. 'Twas odd.

"I think we should head back up." Miguel jerked his head toward the golden temple, the flight of stairs looking like a hundred miles from down here. How he was going to manage to lure Tulio all the way up them on his own was a mystery at this point. He slung Tulio's arm around his neck and navigated through the crowd, politely asking people to move. They parted like the Red Sea, giving the two of them a wide birth. Tulio was talking but it was just drunken gibberish, waving his hand around and laughing. Miguel stifled a grin as he made his way to the stairs, peering up them with a frown.

Well.

"Can't," Tulio mumbled, gesturing to the stairs. "Idon'thavelegs, 'guel."

"Yes, you have legs."

"No! Altivo took...them, stupid warhorse-"

"My Lords?"

Miguel turned as the wall of a man, Chief, waddled up to them, the enormous stomach he carried bumping the blonde's hip. He glanced between the two of them with a degree of concern, hands folded on the top of his stomach. His eyes were warm and friendly - to Miguel, he was probably the only one in this city they could truly trust. He had no sex appeal to Tulio, he wasn't bat ass crazy as that Tzekelkhan character, and he laughed with a bright, merry sound that made Miguel think of Santa Clause. "Do you need assistance?"

Miguel cleared his throat, straightening his back. "Ah, it seems Lord Tulio has ... lost his bearings. It has been quite a few centuries since we, uh, partied." Miguel swallowed thickly, giving the Chief what he hoped to be a confident smile. "I'll just get him up these stairs, no need to worry -"

The Chief laughed, the sound jolly and loud as he pushed Miguel aside with his pinky and scooped the barely conscious body of Tulio into his arms. "Gods shouldn't be burdened with such tasks! Allow me, Lord Miguel." He swept into a deep bow before righting himself, ascending the stairs with quick, effortless steps. Miguel trailed close behind, keeping a watchful eye on the still babbling Tulio, hiding a smirk behind his hand as Tulio admired the Chief's strength.

"It seems Lord Tulio quite enjoys the drink!" The Chief laughed again, not even losing his breath. Miguel was struggling to crawl behind the man, trying to keep his breathing steady so as not to give away his fatigue.

"Ah, yes, Lord Tulio has always had a ... weakness for the drinking pleasures. That's, uh, that's why he made them!"

The Chief threw Miguel a smile over his shoulder, his great, huge body swinging as he climbed the stairs. "Praise the gods for that!"

Miguel was a panting, sweating mess by the time they reached the temple, the blonde almost collapsing with relief as they reached the threshold. The Chief hummed merrily as he bounced into the golden room, draped with beautiful and colorful fabrics. He passed the small pond, to which Tulio pointed to and exclaimed something in Spanish before the Chief laid him as gently as he could manage on one of the benches in the room. He laughed again, bowing as Miguel slumped against the back of the bench, keeping his smile wide.

"Goodnight, my Lords! I shall see you in the morning for our next tribute." He nodded his head in both of their directions before sauntering out of the temple, releasing the threads that held their makeshift door open. Miguel slumped, finally giving into his panting, sucking breath in like he was drowning. He turned his eyes down to Tulio, who gazed up at him with half-glazed eyes and a drunken grin.

Miguel couldn't help but grin. Tulio looked so silly, which was something Miguel got few chances to see. And, as always, Miguel was struck by how ...inhumanly gorgeous he was. To say Tulio was handsome would be an entirely misleading assumption - no, Tulio was pretty. He was very pretty. He had long, black hair, always tied behind his head in a ponytail, though at some point during his dancing he must have lost it, for his hair splayed underneath of him in a black spray. Though they were hooded and unfocused, Tulio's eyes were still that piercing shade of blue, somewhere between the ocean and the sky. Miguel licked his lips and tried to steady his breathing as Tulio perked onto his elbows, dark, slender eyebrows arching across his forehead.

"You're staring at me," Tulio informed the blonde, his voice a little more steady. Miguel blinked, a furious blush that had nothing to do with his alcohol consumption swarming up his cheeks.

"You look ..." Miguel's eyes drifted to the less than concealing robe the other wore. It dipped between his legs, puddling in the center, and, gods, that tiny little fabric was all that was keeping him away from - "Good," he finished, swallowing.

"Yeah?" Tulio laughed, his head falling back. "Better than Chel?"

Miguel struggled not to roll his eyes. "Always."

And then Tulio lowered his head and met Miguel's eyes and smirked and it was like he wasn't even drunk, the solidness in his eyes was so sharp. "_It's tough to be a god_ ..." The man spread his legs, one falling off the edge of the bench he was stretched upon. One hand slithered down the plane of his stomach, pinching the robe circled around his waist by the center and tugging it up. "_Tread where mortals have not trod_ ..."

Miguel's thoughts have all but leaked out of his ears at this point, his jaw dangling before it snapped shut. "You're not even drunk, you bastard!"

Tulio laughed again, sitting up. His blue eyes were bright. "Of course not! I'm much too smart to get drunk in a place I just arrived. Besides." He wiggled his eyebrows. "I know what you were trying to do. What you've _been _trying to do."

Miguel's arms flung over his head. "And you were just going to let me - you - hijo de puta!"

The black-haired Spainard. "Look, I was going to give into you much sooner -"

"Usted _culo enorme_!"

"-but the circumstances were never really convenient-"

"Bastardo!"

"-Miguel, will you please stop swearing -"

"I've been trying to get with you since we were sixteen and you've been wandering off with girls and pretending to be drunk the entire time?" Miguel ran his hands through his hair and spun on his heel, huffing loudly.

"...Miguel, you're pouting."

"I've waited so long, Tulio!" He turned to face him again, face flushed red. "And you, just ... you just ..."

A frown twitched at Tulio's lips. "I'm sorry, amigo. I had some ... things to figure out, and then we were captured on the boat, and then all of this happened and I -" He sighed, patting his leg softly. He glanced up again, a sly smirk replacing his frown. "Now. You either take off your clothes, or I'll take them off for you."

Miguel was really in no place to argue.


End file.
